


Lonely Finds Me, One Day You Will Come

by teenuviel1227



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: F/M, Love Triangle, Sex, forgiveness and lots of character development, the one that got away, trigger warning there is cheating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-01 01:53:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15764205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenuviel1227/pseuds/teenuviel1227
Summary: When you heard the news, you couldn’t quite believe your ears--after what you’d been through when you were younger, after you breaking up with him so he could follow his dream, you’d never thought that Jae would leave his life as a wandering Pastor, never thought that you’d see him again. Of course, you’d been curious--not that you would ever have sought him out; after all you’re married, you’re happy, Sungjin is your life and the most wonderful husband you could ask for: a high-ranking lieutenant who is as gentle and firm with you as he is fierce and unpredictable in his career. And yet, Jae reappears in your life like an unbidden storm: a flurry of soft, blonde hair and armed with his arsenal of cocky jokes, eyes that still look at you like you’re everything. And yet, here you are standing on the hotel balcony of a teaching conference in Madrid. And there are the city lights and the night beckoning, calling you to relive at least a night of your past, to finally resolve that one big what if?





	1. To Make The River Flow Where It’s Run Dry

**Author's Note:**

> I dedicate this to Teenah, who caused me so much pain. LOLJK Thank you for your dedication to writing your fics and thanks for being an awesome friend. Hope you enjoy this!

“The hell’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” 

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling that crooked, mischievous grin of his.

Even now, years later, his voice sends a thrill down your spine. Even now, you’re reluctant to believe the rumors--after all, last time you’d glimpsed him years ago, he’d been at the airport, surrounded by fellow clergymen, about to board a plane to god knows where--but the thing about Jae is you would know that voice anywhere. Silky smooth, catching only on your desire, on the sway that it has over you: a flute to a snake half-hidden in a woven basket.

(Snake is right, you will think to yourself later-- _ you’re both goddamn snakes-- _ but for now, you settle for smitten. Smitten, still.)

For now, you smile, take a sip from your glass of Sangria. There’s a beat of silence in which you half-savor this moment--finally--and let the dread creep into your bones. Wasn’t this what you’d feared on your wedding day? That you two would see each other again and all of these feelings would resurface? 

Not that any of that was happening.

Not yet.

_ Don’t be paranoid. _

You turn around slowly--both reluctant and eager to trade the beautiful Madrid skyline (blushing orange into pink into violet into a deep, inky blue dotted with stars, the buildings bright as the lights turn on, the city waking up) for another lovely view. Jae never disappoints: tonight, his hair is platinum blonde and blowing softly in the wind like a wish you could make if you let yourself--like a wish you made once upon a dream ( _ please don’t let him go,  _ you prayed in your youth-- _ please, God, if you’re out there _ ). He’s wearing a coat over a crisp white polo unbuttoned to the third: low enough so you glimpse the small v at the hollow of his throat, catch sight of where the line of his collarbones begins. The sin of your youth. The soul of your yesteryears. 

His pale skin is sun-kissed, pink on the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose. 

Around his neck: a delicate, silver cross on a white gold chain.

Of course, you’d heard the rumors. Of course you’d heard that he’d given up his pastoral missions to settle down, move back into teaching--although the details of it, you’d never really looked into. If you had, then maybe you would’ve glimpsed his name at the registry. Of course, he would be here. After all, this conference is being hosted by your alma mater. After all, that’s where you’d met Jae, him a freshman, then, lanky and clumsy but also cocky and confident in a way you didn’t quite understand, and you already in your junior year--ready to jump into the world of teaching, ready to reach for the stars. 

_ Hey, Jae, I’ll be your Student Ambassador. What can I teach you? _

_ Whatever you want to teach me.  _

And you’d taught him alright.

Things are different now, you tell yourself, bracing to face the music.

You take a deep breath, wonder how it is that even after all these years the mere sight of him can still knock the wind out of you. You do your best to smile, wish that you’d changed out of the a-line skirt and powder-blue blouse that you’d worn to the talk earlier today--your Teacher’s Conference outfits are smart and put-together but not as sexy as you’d like. It’s an irrational want, but you let yourself have it: you want to blow him away too. 

“Hey, Stranger.” You try to keep the emotion out of your voice--and fail. You feel a grin break out on your face, your lips curling into the widest smile that’s ever been drawn out of you. “Haven’t seen you in, what, like, half a century?”

Your eyes meet. Your heart skips a beat.

Jae grins, never for a moment pulling away from your gaze. 

“You look beautiful.” He walks over to join you by the balcony, leans on the rail. 

“How is it it’s been what, like, ten years and you’re still so full of shit?” You joke, turning to face the view of the city skyline--now, quite a different picture in the dark: somehow more urgent, more dangerous, more alluring. 

“I’ve just never been one to lie.” Jae takes a sip of his drink. When he glances at you again, his bravado is replaced by tenderness--by that voice that you once heard roused from sleep beside you in your college dorm room bed as he got up at the crack of dawn to sneak out before the prefects did rounds. “How’ve you been? I mean--of course, I’ve seen stuff on Facebook, but I haven’t talked to you in ages.” 

You smile, feeling your heart soften. It’s always been like this with you two--both electric and comfortable, lusty and tender. 

“I--well, I mean, obviously, I’m a teacher now. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. I teach kids with advanced aptitudes for the sciences.” You watch as he takes a sip from his glass of white wine, his profile sharp against the light coming in from the dining hall. You pause, lift up your left hand, wiggle your fingers. “Oh, and I’m married.”

“Yeah, I heard. I mean--Pil told me. That’s awesome. He’s a lucky guy.” He grins somewhat sadly but when he speaks again his tone is jovial. “And I always knew that you’d be an amazing teacher. I mean, it’s just this  _ vibe  _  you have. You taught me practically everything I know--” 

“--jeez, Jae,” you joke, punching his arm playfully. “You just quit being a pastor and you’re back at it with the dirty jokes.” 

He laughs but it comes out strained. “Yeah. Yeah, there’s that.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, only now realizing that maybe it isn’t something he’d want to talk about--let alone with you. “Sorry--I just--I mean, yeah. I heard from Pil and Dowoon last time we had dinner. You know how it is.” 

He waves a hand. “No biggie.” 

“So what are  _ you  _ doing here?”

“Oh, yeah so like I said--no, well, you said, I’m done with the whole Pastor business. It just--it turned out not to be for me, you know. So I joined an NGO and we’re advocates for helping kids with disabilities live functional lives. I’m here scouting SPED teachers who might be willing to help out for free. Long shot, but it’s a good cause.” 

You smile wistfully. That’s another thing about Jae: he could be fifty shades of crazy, ten billion variations of difficult and annoying, but his heart was always in he right place. 

“That’s amazing.” You raise your glass. “To a new start.”

He clinks his glass against yours, meeting your eye before looking away. 

“And to old flames.”

 

 

You tell yourself when he asks if you want to have coffee and dessert that  _ if  _ he asks you up to his room, you’re going to say no--but there’s something in the comfort and the cadence of the conversation, something in the way that you both have so many inside jokes that neither of you have had anyone to share with in forever combined with the fact that there are so many stories to tell: he tells you about Bhutan and Bali, about Spain and Sicily and Venice, about Papua New Guinea and Iceland, tells you about odd friends that he’s met over there--some guy who kept changing his name every few days, Brian something-or-other--and in turn, you tell him about your work, tell him about how you met Sungjin when the military came to help during a relief drive for flood victims being hosted by the school, tell him about how you’d cut your finger while using a blunted cutter to slice one of the cardboard boxes open and Sungjin had swept you up in his arms like some sort of hero and carried you all the way to the clinic. You tell him about the house that you guys live in back home, how it’s your pride and joy for the lovely flowers that grow around it, for the porch that Sungjin built from scratch when he got home from serving a few years ago. 

You both take each other’s stories in, listening quietly but intently, making an off-hand joke here and there but mostly letting the other person talk, mostly letting the stories sink in, soaking in the long-missed presence of the other.

_ You’re here. I missed you so badly and you’re here.  _

Before both of you know it, the waiters are closing up, asking you for last orders. Before you know it, both of you are stepping into the elevator, watching your reflections in the ceiling, biding time before the choice you know somehow that both of you have to make. You want more time but not the questions that come with it. Jae waves at you in the reflective ceiling, mouths  _ wanna come hang in my room.  _

You hesitate, hope he doesn’t notice--but you can tell he does. He looks away.

“It’s alright. I get it, it’s a bit weird, huh.” 

He presses his floor--21st, and yours: 23rd. The buttons light up.

You chew on your lower lip.

_ Not like anything’s going to happen.  _

“Nah, come on.” You press your floor again. The button for 23rd goes dark. “Let’s hang in your room first. I haven’t seen you in ten billion years and I’ll be damned if I don’t hear more stories just cause it’s a bit weird.” 

“Alright, then.” He laughs, runs a hand through his hair and puts his hand in his pocket--a gesture that you notice Sungjin does when he’s nervous too. 

You grin despite yourself.

_ Maybe I have a type.  _

The elevator dings. Jae holds the door, nods toward the hallway, gesturing for you to go first.

“Shall we?”

  
  


Jae’s hotel room is a little bit smaller than yours: it’s got one window overlooking the pool and is sparse except for a suitcase that’s lying unpacked by the dresser, a guitar case sitting on the sofa. You flop onto the bed which is unmade and smells like Jae, the smell of him--mingled vanilla and Drakkar Noir--taking you back to all those years ago when he would pull you into his lap in his car that you guys would park under the old willow tree by the lake. You’d lean down to kiss him and the scent would fill your head as his hands skimmed up your thighs, pulling you close. 

“On the rocks or neat?”

You blink, pull yourself out of your trance.

_ Get your head out of the gutter.  _

“On the rocks.”

“Got it.”

Jae walks over with the drinks--a gin-based Shirley Temple for you, the red from the grenadine and cherry bright in the glass, a whiskey neat for him. He hands you your drink. Your fingertips touch. You feel your cheeks grow warm. 

“You think we should play a game or something?” Jae asks, sitting on the bed next to you.

You’re suddenly wary of how close your fingers are on the mattress. You raise an eyebrow, take a swig from your drink.

“What kind of game?” 

Jae shrugs, take a sip from his glass. “Like, an ice breaker?”

You snort. “An ice breaker, what is this, the first day of class?”

Jae laughs. “I don’t know. It’s just--you know how complicated our history is. I’m not sure what would be good to ask. Like what’s safe or impolite or whatever?”

You roll your eyes. “I can’t believe you’re worried about propriety. You’re an ex-pastor with your married ex-girlfriend sitting on your bed, drinking gin.”

Jae grins. “Touche.”

“Alright,” you say, sitting up. “I’ve got it. We could play truth or truth.”

“What?”

“Like truth or dare minus the dare. We just ask each other questions and no one gets offended.”

Jae pauses a moment, runs a hand through his hair before tossing the rest of his whiskey back. 

“Alright. You first.”

You grin. “Did you have any girlfriends over the years? I mean--pastors can marry--why didn’t you--”

“--one serious one after you,” Jae says slowly. “It just didn’t feel right, I guess. We ended up talking about marriage but it didn’t get any further than that. You can love someone and want different things.”

“Fair enough.” You down the rest of your Shirley Temple, scoop the cherry up with your tongue. “Your turn.” 

Jae frowns. “What do you like about him--Sungjin, I mean. What made you pick him?”

You blink, caught off guard. 

“Well. He’s probably the kindest man that I’ve ever met. Sungjin’s--he’s--sturdy, you know? Like a barrel or like a Narra tree. You know that nothing could ever break him. You know that with him, you’re safe. And maybe on a more selfish level, I think he’s really hot.” You giggle, fail to notice that Jae’s eyes are downcast, that a frown tugs at the corners of his mouth. “And on an even more selfish level, I like the way that he looks at me--”

Jae looks up, meets your eye. “--how’s that?”

“Like I’m the only woman in the world.” You smile, using your thumb to turn your wedding band softly on your ring finger. “Like if I disappeared, the whole world would crumble.”

“I see,” Jae says, regaining composure. “Your turn, then.”

“What made you quit being a Pastor?”

“I told you--” A flash of annoyance flickers on Jae’s face.

“--no, what you told me was everything  _ but  _ that. You told me about why you didn’t get married, about what you’re doing now. But you didn’t tell me why you gave it up. I thought it was your dream,” you say, frowning, the day you broke up with him suddenly rushing back to you: tears spilling down your cheeks.  _ How was I supposed to compete with God?  _ “So tell me why? You could’ve been a pastor back home if you were tired of doing mission work. Why give all of it up?”

When Jae speaks, his voice is quiet.

“You know I’d always wondered--”

“--about?”

“--if I’d made a mistake. Back then, leaving you to go out and preach. I know you said I should go and you said I should chase my dreams, but  _ was  _ that my dream?”

Your eyes meet. You can feel the heat coming from Jae’s body, are suddenly aware of how close his nose is to yours, how slick his lips are from drinking. 

“Jae, what are you--”

“--look,” Jae says, putting his glass down on the floor before sitting back up, cupping your cheek with a hand. It’s still cool, moist from the glass. “You were--are--the love of my life. And I realized that while the mission work was rewarding and while I still believe in everything I did what I wanted more than anything was that feeling that I used to get whenever we were together--”

Your voice is barely above a whisper. You’re holding your breath so tight you’re afraid you might faint.

“--and what feeling was that?”

Jae brushes the apple of your cheek with his thumb. You feel yourself tilting like an axis toward the sun--tension, gravitational pull, resistance. A snake being summoned from its basket by a lilting melody. 

You bite into the cherry, feel the juice burst against your tongue.

“Like there was only one woman in the world who mattered--and she only had eyes for me.” 

He moves closer, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. You swallow. The cherry is sweet and bitter at the same time, still coated with gin.

You picked your poison.

Your heart is pounding. 

“She did--” 

He moves closer still, his lips so close to yours that you can feel his breath ghost over your lips when he speaks. 

“--say no and I won’t come any closer.” 

You open your mouth but the words don’t come. 

Jae studies your eyes: a question.

You put a hand on his chest, running the cloth of his collar between our thumb and forefinger--an answer.

He closes the distance between you in a kiss that’s both tentative and passionate, torrid and gentle. He parts your lips with his tongue and pulls you closer, scoops you into his lap in a way that’s almost second nature for both of you. You straddle him, feeling him tense under your touch, feeling him already rise to the occasion as you squirm in his lap. Your hands grasp at the lapels of his coat. His hands find the hem of your skirt, brushing against your thighs before reappearing to undo the buttons of your blouse with deft fingers. He moves his mouth from yours to kiss down your neck, to kiss the swell of your breasts, to slip each strap of your bra off your shoulders slowly, watching you in the dim hotel room light. You undo the buttons on his shirt--he’s broader than you remember, albeit still all sinew and porcelain skin. 

You suck softly on the skin of his neck until his breath catches, until you both know it will bruise in the morning. He undoes your bra, tosses it off to the side. His hands are on the clasp of your skirt. You hear your stockings rip as his fingers squeeze the swell of your hips, as he finds that part of you, the center that is slick and warm. 

“Jae--” you lean against his shoulder, feeling his fingers move against you. Desire rises in your gut, coiling and recoiling to his rhythms. You undo the buckle of his belt, shimmy his pants down his hips. 

He’s hard, leaking through the fabric of his boxers. He lets out a moan--hoarse but loud, as you palm him through his underwear. 

“--oh fuck--”

You grin, nip at his lower lip. 

“--I thought you weren’t supposed to curse--” 

In a single movement, he grins and puts an arm around your waist, turning so that he has you pinned to the bed. 

“There are a lot of things I’m not supposed to do--but here we are--” 

You’re breathless, unable to think in the heat of the moment, unable to pull yourself together. All you know is the want and the pause--that you need him inside you and he isn’t there, isn’t touching  you and something so painful can’t be right. 

“--here we are--” you pull him toward you, kissing him harder this time, bucking your hips as he slips a leg between your thighs. You slip your hand past the elastic of his underwear, stroke him close. “Jae. Oh jeez, you’re so turned on--”

Between gasps, he manages to speak. “I--I haven’t been touched in so fucking long--”

You wrap your legs around his waist. The tip of him brushes against the center of you. 

“God, you’re so w--” 

You cut him off with a kiss as he reaches down to play you again--oh, how like his guitar you’ve always been: made for those goddamn fingers. You call his name, cry it out: you say it like a spell and at the sound of your words, the dynamics are reversed. You are the sorcerer and he, the snake, rising toward you.

“Fuck me.” 

He looks at you a moment, opens his mouth to say something but doesn’t. 

_ Don’t break the spell.  _

Instead, he reaches over to a nearby drawer, takes out one of the rubbers they’d been giving out at the Sex Education For Educators talk the day before. You help him: slick him up, take him in your mouth and enjoy the way that he sighs against you as he strokes your hair, before rolling the rubber on. 

He makes love to you slow but hard--you marvel at how different this is, how gazelle-like he is compared to Sungjin, who feels like the glorious night coming down on you. It’s just different. Neither are better, simply held apart. Jae is precise, swift, where Sungjin plays all fields, is a multi-tasker. You sigh against Jae as he moves in you, as he whispers  _ touch yourself, let’s cum together _ into your ear when he’s on the cusp of climax, bringing your fingers to that holy pearl at the apex of you. 

And you both go: swifter than rapids, harder than lightning. 

Your toes curl. 

He pulls out as he spills into the condom, catching you mid-climax, and lowers his mouth and licks in that secret place until you’re shuddering, until you're shaking like a leaf, until his lips, his chin are slick with the soul of you.

It sinks in as you two lie there in stunned silence.

_ No _ , you think.  _ No, no, no, no, no.  _

But here is Jae, pulling you into his arms. Here’s Jae, kissing you softly. Here’s Jae, leading you into the shower, where both of you to wash your sin off each other. 

“Jae?” You say softly as you rinse shampoo from your hair. “I--I mean--I’m married. I love him. I--this can’t happen again, alright?”

Jae nods, leaning back into the current of hot water. You take a mental picture, take in how gorgeous he looks like this. Tell yourself that you’re going to stick to your word.

“No one has to know.”

“Jae, please--”

“--I would rather be your secret than be nothing.”

You open your mouth, will yourself to say  _ then be nothing.  _

But you couldn’t do that to him. 

  
  


Later, in the safety of your own bed, in your own room, you lie awake, willing the guilt to settle in, willing the tears to tear at you.  _ Snake, snake, snake.  _ But they don’t come--not yet.

Your phone vibrates.

Sungjin.

“Hey, babe?”

“Why are you still up? Isn’t it four in the morning over there?”

“Just--I had a bad dream.” 

“Oh, babe.” You hear him sigh over the line, his voice that rich, husky tone you’ve always loved. The antidote to any poison, your cure, your home, your savior. “I wish I could be there to hold you. It isn’t real. In a few days, you’ll be home and I’ll kiss all the doubt away.”

A tear slips down your cheek.

_ There it is.  _

You choke back a sob.

“Babe,” Sungjin’s voice is full of worry. “What’s wrong? Do you need me to call hotel staff? The organizers? Are Pil and Dowoon staying at the same hotel?”

“No! No, babe, I’m fine. I just--I banged my knee against the end table.”

“Poor baby.” Sungjin sighs. The line goes fuzzy. You wish he could hold you. You wish you could un-do what you’d done. Sungjin makes a kiss noise through the phone. “Better?”

The sobs tear from you like lightning in a storm. 

“Better.”

_ Worse. So much worse.  _  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 next week. ;)


	2. To Be A Prodigal Of Father Time

The first time you met Sungjin was the first time that you felt small in a good way, felt deserving of tenderness or at least capable of it, able to not always be the one in control, to not always be the one wanting but the one _wanted_ \--when the cutter slipped and you cut your hand and saw that first bead of blood, you hadn’t panicked, had just been on the way to get your first aid kit from your bag, the one you always carried to class in case one of the kids got hurt. But he’d caught your eye from across the room, a worried look crossing his face and he’d rushed over and bowed and said _I’m going to help you now_ before sweeping you up into his arms.

Your okay was barely out of your mouth when it happened. There was a flutter in your stomach--that sensation that’s right between falling and floating--as he swept you off your feet, as your arms instinctively clung to him, his shoulders broad, his chest radiating warmth. You were out of breath, for more reasons than one.

You felt your cheeks flush crimson as your colleagues watched the two of you make your way down the hall--and two years later, on your wedding night, he’d let out a laugh so loud, so booming that it warmed your heart as he swept you off your feet again, the train of your dress brushing against the wooden porch flooring, and carried you over the threshold of your house.

No, your _home_.

All your life you’d been the kind of person that other people could depend on--perfect for teaching, your professors had always said. But being with Sungjin had shown you a part of yourself that you never knew you would like: a part of you that was vulnerable, that didn’t know everything, that didn’t have all the answers.

Answers that Sungjin just always seemed to have: a key to the lock you bound to your heart, one that you swore you’d never open up again after Jae. And when you tell him about Jae, tell him how the last few months had turned both of you into different people--for once, you not the sexy older woman that he looked up to but someone who would hold him down, someone who would keep him from his true vocation, and for once, Jae not the fun-loving ray of sunshine who always had your back, but someone who was selfish, who only wanted what he wanted, he holds you close and you feel yourself cry like a child for the first time in what feels like forever, the sobs crashing into you like a tidal wave in a storm.

“You’re okay,” Sungjin said, holding you to him, kissing your forehead, rocking your softly in his arms. “You’re okay, I’m here. It’s going to be okay.”

And for some reason, when Sungjin said those things, things that your friends, your family had told you in the past, you believed him--because, well, Sungjin was Sungjin. Sungjin always had all of the answers that you didn’t, always gave you whatever it was he had whenever you felt like you were empty-handed, out of options, out of clever ways to rationalize the difficulties of life.

The first time he left for a six-month-long enlistment, you’d been so lonely, so tired, and he’d still found a way to call you every night, found a way to sing you a song over the line and cheer you up. And when he’d gotten home, he’d told you he’d been discharged from active duty, had volunteered instead for an office post at the nearby base because he wanted to be near you, wanted to be with you, didn’t want you feeling lonely.

At first you thought it would fade--you’re no fool, you’d been in love before, knew how good the start could be. But it didn’t: even when you two moved in, got married, Sungjin stayed your rock, that solid person you knew you could count on. Sungjin always knew you would leave your Thursday teaching shirt out on the line after you washed it--it was a dull pink with a stick-drawing of a kid playing basketball printed on the front which you wore for the kids’ PE day which mostly involved playing stop-dance for a half-hour--and would take it in and fold it for you, leaving it out on the bathroom counter on Wednesday evenings so you’d see it in the morning. He always knew that on Saturdays you would sleep in and he could surprise you by cooking you breakfast in bed even if eventually, the surprise wore off because he did it every week--not that you ever minded, because you loved seeing him carrying that tray into the bedroom, a kitchen towelette slung over one shoulder, a flower plucked from the garden sitting in a small vase alongside a cup of coffee dark as night and sweet as sin, and whatever he’d cooked that week: pancakes, bacon, an omelette filled with your favorite herbs and cheese.

Today is a Saturday. Today is the only full free day on the trip. Today, you let yourself sleep in.

You wake up and the light filters in through the glass of the balcony double-doors, illuminating the bed, the paisley-patterned wallpaper of the hotel room. For a moment, you’re immune from the guilt, from the hidden pleasure of last night: for a moment, you only know that it’s Saturday because your alarm hasn’t gone off. For a moment, you imagine that the door is going to open and Sungjin is going to walk in with that tray, set it down on the bed, and kiss you softly, his lips warm as he greets you the softest of good mornings in that deep, husky voice that you love.

And then you hear the soft knocking, that voice from another world, that other role you played in a life long ago.

“You awake? Can I come in?”

You feel your heart flutter, feel your stomach knot. You sit up, your head spins. Flashbacks of last night: heated skin, soft lips, hot breath.

“I don't think that’s a good idea.”

A moment of silence.

“I just want to talk--”

You let out a snide laugh, don’t think you sound like yourself.

“--you never want to _just_ talk.”

“Meet me downstairs, then. Let’s have breakfast. Please. I don’t want you to hate me. I can’t live like that--”

You sigh, feel sadness flutter over you like a blanket.

“--I don’t hate you.” You sit up, get out of bed and cross the room to undo the chain, open the door a crack. Jae is handsome in a powder-blue button down worn with the sleeves rolled up, his hair that fluffy blonde poof that made you want to ruffle it, run your fingers through it. His face is creased with concern. “Give me ten minutes. I’ll see you in the restaurant.”

“Okay, Teach,” He grins softly. “I’m at your mercy--always have been, always will be.”

You blink, want to say _then leave me alone_ or _then stop hurting me_ but none of those things worked then and none of them will work now, so you settle for honesty.

“I’ll be down in a bit. Order me a latte. Make it vanilla.”

  


The restaurant smells like caramelized sugar and coffee. You spot Jae sitting by the veranda, Madrid looking splendid through the window as it frames his outline. You sigh, turn your wedding ring on your fourth finger. He gets up to help you with your chair. You feel yourself blush despite yourself, smoothen your skirt--a plaid pencil skirt that you know cinches you in at the waist, that you know accentuates the curve of your hip--and sit down.

“Thanks.”

You blink as you look at the food laid out on the table. He’s ordered you a vanilla latte, a basket of croissants, an omelette with herbs. You remember the clumsy way that Jae liked to beat eggs in a pan whenever you slept over, the way you’d wake up to the smell of egg frying too quickly, the way you guys would laugh as you scraped it out of the pan and onto a plate. You grin despite yourself, take a sip of your coffee.

“Jeez,” you joke. “It’s been a billion years and you’re still serving me fried omelette.”

He laughs, relief washing over his features. “It’s Jae Style.”

“Hrrrm.” You grin, take a bite of the egg, pause thoughtfully. “No, see, this isn’t burnt.”

He holds your gaze--you watch as he glances at your fourth finger. He blinks, sadness washing over his face at the sight of the gold band still sitting there, solid.

“Jae--”

“--about last night--”

“--it can’t happen again--”

“--I’ll prove myself to you. Look, I know things between us haven’t exactly been smooth sailing. I know what a jerk I was but I’m a different person now. I can be reliable too, you know. I would take care of you too.”

“Why don’t we just forget that it happened?”

He flinches. “I can’t--”

“--then pretend to.” You cut him off, smearing butter onto a croissant. “Because it isn’t going to happen again.”   


 

The first time that you and Sungjin had _done the deed_ as he liked to call it, wiggling his eyebrows for effect, it was after he’d taken you to a town hall celebration at the military base. It was a birthday party for one of his colleagues who worked at the base. It was forties-themed. You were wearing a petticoat under your pleated navy blue skirt which bloomed under you and ended right at your knees. Your blouse was white and balloon-sleeved. Sungjin had given you one of his decorative pins in the shape of a scarlet-red eagle to wear pinned to your collar. He bought you a corsage that he strapped gently to your wrist, the flower a white carnation, the strap blue satin. You two slow-danced the night away, him looking stunning in his gala uniform, crisp and showing off the broad line of his shoulders, the taper of his waist, the swell of his hips. He held you gently but firmly in his arms as the music played--old songs, familiar melodies, both of you only knowing the choruses.

Blue Moon.

I’ll see you in September, when summer is gone.

Dream, dream, dream when I want you.

He leaned down to kiss you in the blue light of the dance hall, one arm looped around your waist, the other holding your hand in his, his thumb pressing against the center of your palm--and suddenly it overtook you, like wind pushing beneath a sail: that familiar want, that fire in your gut, the thing that you’d told him you wanted to take slow even as you two sat breathless and half-undressed in the moonlight of your kitchen a few days ago.

 _I want it to be perfect,_ you’d said, then.

But in that dance hall, hearing his heart pound in his chest as you pulled away from the kiss and laid your head on his chest, you knew the truth: whenever and however it happened, if it was with Sungjin it would be perfect.

You lifted your lips to his ear, whispered the magic words.

“How about we go back to your place after this?”

You didn’t have to look to know that he was smiling.

“If you’re sure.”

You smile, look up into his eyes: bright moons in the blue and silver night.

“I’m sure.”

_I’m sure it’s you._

  


It was rougher, more tumultuous than you expected--maybe because of how gentle he’d always been with you, how protective, how like a rock, you’d expected him to take his time. But as soon as you’d crossed the threshold of his front door, as soon as he’d clicked the lock on the door, he pressed you to the wall and kissed--your lips parted, let him in without him asking as he licked into your mouth with all of the fervor built from the restraint both of you had employed. He pushed himself against you until you were hip to hip. You both heard your petticoat protest, heard the crinoline strain and then creak as Sungjin ground his hips against yours.

Your hands tangled in his hair as he kissed down your neck, undoing your blouse as he went, untucking it from where it was pushed into the waistband of your skirt. You undid the buttons of his uniform as quickly as you could with trembling hands

“Isn’t this some kind of disrespect to the uniform--”

Sungjin grinned, sucking softly on the skin of your neck.

“--keep disrespecting it then.”

You leaned in to kiss him, tracing his lower lip with your tongue and sucking before you pulled away while moving one hand down, down, palming him through his already-tight pants. His eyelids shut from the pleasure. You grinned as you felt him grow hard against your touch. When he caught your eye, there was a fierceness, a deep hunger there that hadn’t been there before.

He whispered softly against your skin, his voice so deep, so gruff it’s almost a growl.

“I want you so fucking bad.”

You watched him watch you for a moment, those eyes drowning you in love, in lust. He kissed down the hollow of your throat, the swell of your breasts, softly mouthing at your nipples through your bra. You felt your breath hitch, knew that your underwear was soaked, that if he tried he would glide in easy. He moved his hands down to hold you gently but securely by the wrists as he used his chin to push your bra down, to free one nipple and then another, licking soft but slow until they hardened against his mouth.

“Fuck--baby--”

You were breathless, every inch of your skin atingle with want. Sungjin looked up at you, that familiar smirk on his face.

“--I hate petticoats.” He pushed his hips against you again. Your skirt bobbed from the force.

You laughed, every inch of you aching for more contact. “Want me to take it off?”

He shook his head, his smirk growing more mischievous.

“I’ve always wanted to know what the underside of a petticoat looked like--”

“--Sungjin, babe--”

“--part those legs for me, baby--

Sungjin grinned, kissed the swell of your breasts one more time before getting on his knees. You parted your legs, your thighs quivering from the restraint as you leaned against the wall. You heard your skirt rustle as Sungjin crawled beneath it. His fingers worked you through the fabric of your underwear, every part of you coming alive--and then you felt the fabric of your panties pushed to the side, felt his tongue make its way to push against your clit as his fingers softly, slowly push into you.

You let out a moan that was louder than you intended. Your bones felt like they were on fire.

He worked you fast, relentless, licked and fingered and mouthed until you were a mess in his mouth, until you could hear him slurp the nectar of you. You shook, trembled against the wall as he resurfaced. You pulled him toward you in a kiss that was wet and deep and a promise of more to come.

“--good?” He eskimoed his nose softly against yours.

You nodded. “So fucking good.”

“Bedroom?”

“Please.”

Once in the bedroom, he undid your skirt with so much impatience that the button fell off, the zipper ripping at the seams--but neither of you cared. You watched each other undress: you were wary of him watching as you stepped out of the skirt, out of the petticoat, out of your soaked underwear--and he grinned as you kept eye contact as he untucked his upper garment, peeled off his white t-shirt underneath, unbuckled his belt and stepped out of his pants, his underwear. You let out a mischievious laugh you watched his cock lean heavy and leaking against the swell of his thigh.

“Well, well,” you joked. “Someone’s turned on.”

He laughed, making to remove his dog tags.

You pushed him onto the bed, staying his hand. “No--no, keep them on, it’s sexy.”

He grinned. “If you say so.”

“I do.”

He reached over to take a rubber from his wallet, handed it to you. And you grinned, opening the wrapper with your teeth before rolling the condom slowly onto the length of him.

“Ready?” You asked as you straddled him.

He nodded. “As long as you’re ready.”

And so you guided him inside you, the width of him kissing the walls of your center, pushing at nerve endings, parts of you you hadn’t even realized were there. You let out the loudest of moans as he pushed you back, all of him filling you up--and then he brought his fingers to your clit, still wet from earlier. You rode him for your life: going as fast, as hard as you could, enjoying the way that you drew your name from his lips, enjoying the way that he cursed even if Sungjin never cursed, his _fuck, fuck, fuck_ the loudest thing in the room next to the wet slapping of skin and the creaking of the bed.

When you felt your pleasure mount again, felt yourself about to climax, Sungjin pulled you forward onto him, holding you in place and thrusting into you relentlessly, thumb pushing at your clit and tipping you into the glory of orgasm.

“Oh yeah, baby,” he growled into your ear. “Oh fuck me--”

“--babe--”

“--I’m cumming--”

“--please--”

And he thrust hard, fast, and spilled himself into the condom, his head tipping back, his neck slick with sweat as you kissed his lips, his neck, his ear. You collapsed on top of each other, both of you giddy and breathless. You pressed your ear to his chest, grinned at the way it ran staccato, now, like someone knocking at heaven’s door.

“Sungjin?”

“Mmmm?”

“You’re crazy.”

A soft laugh, arms strong as they held you close. He tipped your chin up toward him, kissing you softly.

"Don't break my heart, alright."

Back then, you had been sure you never would. 


End file.
